“Oh, Billie…” Nina’s voice broke, but she didn’t step any closer.
Billie yanked at the harness again, and the buckle finally gave way. The leather slipped loose and hit the floor with a thud, making Billie flinch.
She stared down at it as though she didn’t recognise it, and then she recoiled, bumping into the desk as she staggered back. She braced her palms behind her, needing something solid to stop herself from falling apart altogether.
“I knew this would happen.” Billie shook her head. “Iknewbetter. I always know better. I just—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I just forgot for a second.”
Nina approached slowly. “Forgot what?”
“That wanting doesn’t end well.” Billie felt her breathing starting to spiral again. “I told myself it was fine. I told myself I could handle it. That I was in control.” Her voice dropped. “I always think that. And then…” She slid down the side of the desk, her knees buckling as she sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, rocking slightly. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I swear. I won’t need anything. I won’t ask.”
Nina crouched in front of her without touching her, her hands braced on her own thighs as she searched Billie’s face. “You don’t have to apologise. Not to me.”
Billie shook her head, her eyes unfocused. “I do. I always do. It’s easier if I do. If I say sorry first, maybe it won’t hurt as much.”
“Billie, do you want me to call someone for you? Or take you home?”
“N-no. I’ll fix it. I just…I just have to be better. Quieter. I shouldn’t have wanted anything.” Her throat closed painfully. “I knew that.”
“Hey.” Nina dipped her head and smiled. “It’ll all be okay.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but Debra’s face was still there. The shock and the heartbreak. The way she’d looked at Billie as though she finally understood something she never wanted to see.
“Billie.” Nina sat down on the floor at Billie’s feet. “Look at me.”
It took a moment, but Billie’s eyes slowly lifted.
“You’re not in trouble. No one’s angry. Debra didn’t?—”
Billie flinched at the name.
“I broke it,” she whispered. “I finally had something real, and I broke it.”
“I don’t think she left because ofyou. I think she left because she was hurt.”
Billie pressed her forehead to her knees. “That’s worse.”
The silence that settled was heavier than anything Billie had experienced in a long time, but she welcomed it. Because silence usually meant no pain. Silence meant nothing being thrown, nobody being whipped, and no mess to clean up when it was all over.
She felt herself folding in on herself, her muscles drawn tight and her arms wrapping around her torso without conscious thought. Her body knew this shape. It had lived in it for too long at one time.
“I won’t do it again, I promise. I won’t need anything. I won’t ask. I won’t push.”
“Billie,” Nina said, her voice thick with worry. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m fine. I just misjudged something.” Her body ached so badly that she wondered if she was going to throw up. “I always do.”
That stillness settled again, but Billie stayed where she was, her back against the desk with her eyes closed, and her palms pressed flat to the floor.
“I need you to go home. I’ll lock up.”
“I don’t think I can, Billie. I can’t leave you here like this.”
Billie locked eyes with Nina for a brief second. “I’m okay. I want to be alone.” And then she pressed her forehead to her knees again. “Please, just go.”
There was a hesitation—she felt it even without seeing it—and then the sound of movement as footsteps retreated. After the door closed and the shop returned to silence, Billie lifted herhead and swallowed. She pressed her hands against her face, but nothing could stop the avalanche of shame ripping through her.
Debra had looked at her like she’d been punched.
